Maggie Fulton
As we sat in RLH, the Wayfarers' hut in Langdale, on a wet and misty Sunday in June, waiting vainly for yet another torrential downpour to subside, the idea of August in the Dolomites sounded like a month in heaven - all that dry warm rock and sunshine - what are we waiting for?
The next four weeks became a time of frantic activity; boat bookings, green card, camping carnet, BMC insurance, an endless list of trivia before we turned to the serious business of collecting as much information about the actual climbing as we could. Bookshops and libraries were scoured, a hasty and fruitful visit to Ron James took place and, with the acquisition of several maps and foreign guidebooks, the real hard work began. Evenings were spent amongst a litter of papers making cross-references of routes in German, English and Italian guides, picking out routes on photographs and study topos. After much deliberation we decided that a likely centre for Dolomite beginners was the Val de Fassa in the western Dolomites, this area being central to the Catinaccio, Sassolungo and Sella mountain groups, with a good selection of different grade climbs and several campsites. A hasty mending of the airbed and re-proofing of the tent on the morning of departure and we were off.
After numerous wrestles with a computerised AA printout of our road route which de-concertinered at each important road interchange we eventually arrived two nights later at the pass and drove through picturesque foothills covered in pine tress and Heidi chalets. Suddenly as we rounded a bend, there it was, a high jaggedly pointed rock face gleaming white in the sunshine, our first sight of the 'Dollies', and what a sight. Terrifying high and dramatic, we stared in amazement, all the photographs had not prepared us for this magnificence. We drove on thoroughly intimidated, we had arrived!
At Canazei in total contrast we gazed in horror at the campsite seething with what seemed to be thousands of Italian and German tents, nose to tail, music blaring from a disco, not exactly our idea of a secluded mountain campsite. We were somewhat relieved to be told 'full up' and moved on. Four 'full ups' later we gratefully accepted the offer of a minute patch of grass in the middle of an equally horrendous campsite further down the valley So we made our first discovery, the first 2 weeks in August are the busiest time of the year for the Dolomites.
A day's rest and we were ready to learn our second lesson. We were rearing to go and our first trip was to be a Via Ferrata or protected path, our aim was to acclimatise ourselves and have a good nosey at the rocks. We walked from the Rifugio Gardinia upwards, passing the Vajolet Towers and Punta Emma where we were to climb later. For me it was amazing, actually being at the places I had studied on the maps, I could feel the excitement bubbling inside. We then learnt without doubt that the higher we went the colder it got. As we shivered our way round the Via Ferrata with the snowflakes drifting by we reflected on our bags below containing bathing costumes and sun tan oil and thought longingly of duvets back home in Liverpool. Could this really be snow - in Italy - in August?
At the end of the first two weeks we had really got into the swing of things. We had rest days, Via Ferrata days and climbing days. Climbing days meant up at 6am and on the route by 8am at the latest. Sandwiches and drinks and any spare clothing were carried by the second in a sac. The leader required a relatively small amount of gear because of the in situ pegs and belay rings and for easy routes single ropes were adequate and the order of the day. Binoculars proved really useful in picking out routes from a distance, some of which were incredibly hard to find when one was actually climbing. Red blobs, numbers and arrows painted on the rock we decided were part of some fiendish plot by the Italian Guides to confuse all the rest of us.
We soon discovered that belay methods and protection were treated with a somewhat cavalier attitude by many foreign climbers and we became adept at stopping them clipping into our gear. We also realised the value of walking helmeted in front of other groups ascending and behind other groups descending, the familiar ominous whistle of falling stones sending everyone scurrying for the rock face - yes the advantage of being out early and avoiding the rush were plentiful.
The tedious task of walking to routes was avoided as much as possible by the use of ski lifts where available to conserve energy and again save time. After one two hour trek we had just begun to climb and watched in envy as a helicopter zoomed in a group of virile Italian soldiers who then proceeded to climb up, through and over us, their small youthful bottoms soon disappearing from view over the horizon.
Despite such distractions we had soon 'bagged' several notable routes, such as the spectacular and exposed Spigolo Delago on the Torre Delago. Memorable for a different, 'nail biting' reason was the Pilistrini Route on the First Sella Tower. The climb was accomplished and we were all feeling pleased with ourselves only to discover we had climbed a detached tower which necessitated leaping across a six foot gap to reach the main cliff- Oops!! The Five-Finger-Spitz on the Catinaccio proved a very up and down route and the wildly impressive Piz di Ciavazes provided some exciting and steep climbing, particularly the fourteen pitch South East Ridge which proved an interesting route finding exercise and included a large roof which had to be aid climbed.
Via Ferratas were saved for half days when we had a 'lie in'. We had discovered them during our sorties into the guidebooks. Dedicated Via Ferratas enthusiasts are able to clip into wires attached to the rock with karabiners attached to their harnesses to protect themselves. Some of the ladder-ways to be negotiated ascended vertical rock for hundreds of feet; others traced highly exposed ledges linking caves. The Ferratas themselves differed greatly in character and difficulty, some being pleasant walks through beautiful forests with deer, squirrels and wonderful wild flowers, but always with those gigantic rock faces peeping seductively through the gaps in the tress. Other Ferattas had a distinct Grand Canyon feel; barren white rock and scree with very little vegetation save for the occasional hardy rock plant. Some had been constructed during the war years to aid mountain warfare and spent bullets, barbed wire, helmets and boots were in evidence. We became used to meeting exhausted walkers staggering down from particularly athletic and exposed sections of Ferratas groaning 'we were only going for a walk'.
The main problem we confronted (besides our unsuccessful repaired airbed) was the weather. We had been warned about the tremendous storms that build up over a few days, and then swept through the passes, but we were unprepared perhaps for the cold and the boneshaking thunder-storms. Thank God for plastic bags. Our smart track suited Italian neighbours became used to seeing these crazy English wandering about in old woolly climbing garb covered in down feathers after being worn in a leaky sleeping bag all night. Our ongoing problem with the air bed, which needed blowing up continually, had already resulted in their concluding that we had some sort of air bed fetish (not to mention an over-developed right leg from pumping). Their fears about our state of mind became cemented the day we decided to put the inflated airbed into the river to try to find the leak. Obviously suspecting we were going to shoot the rapids, they lined the banks in anticipation only to be disappointed.
We may have been wet, we may have been cold, but it didn't matter, the magic of those tremendous mountains, just begging to be climbed, with routes for everyone was entrancing. However, 7-10 hour routes are totally different from 3 pitch climbs in The Lakes. Fitness and stamina are essential as many routes are not technically difficult but require a more sustained type of climbing at speed. These routes are on big faces in serious situations. But there are always the Sella Towers and the Piz Ciavazes, the Llanberis Pass of the Dolomites, 20 minutes form the road where every move is watched through binoculars by passing motorists. Here are some short mixed climbs which are easily accessible, especially if one chooses to stop at the roadside to camp (at the risk of being moved on by machine gun wielding Carabinieri).
Memories abound of this fantastic area, wonderful sunsets and sunrises, crashing thunder echoing around till we thought it would go on forever, flowers, marmots and deer in abundance. The feeling of elation as we stepped out onto a diedre with the wind buffeting, on one side the Alps, on the other the uncompromising Marmolada glacier, and the incredible degree of exposure is unforgettable. For me the memory of a perfect evening sums it all up, driving down a magnificent pass in the dark, the mountains forming a majestic backcloth, tired and happy after a good day's climbing, the sound of the Hallelullia Chorus filling the car from the radio, what a marvellous feeling!
The party consisted of: Mike Bird; John and Ann Blakeborough and family; Maggie Fulton; Fiona MacGillivray; Hugh Mantle; Bill Sutherland; Simon Troop.